(no subject)
It is an autumn afternoon of day 4, month 11, turn 21 of Interval 10.
It's one of those seedy little holes along the Peyton River, the place is relatively quiet even at what should be a popular hour. The beer is indifferent, the company not particularly witty, but there are a couple of games of cards going on in the background and the barkeep is swabbing down the counter with a damp rag as the sun slides on down towards the western sea.
Into the bar steps a customer, or at least a new face. A youngish man, with scabbing knuckles and bruises on his face at least a sevenday old, kicks the door shut behind him and pauses just inside to give the place a once-over. Card games he notes and ignores before heading up to the bar, straddling a stool and dropping his pack at his feet. "Beer," he orders into the bar-swabbing, "an' bread. Cheese if you got it." His drawl marks him as from around here, instead of the pansy eastern side of the mountains.
The barkeep pauses in his swabbing, eyes the strapping young man and without saying a word, leaves off with the rag, turns to draw one of those indifferent mugs of beer and sets it down in front of him. A loaf of bread, whole grain is drawn up from beneath the counter, a slice cut, then a wedge of cheese from what looks like a block of cheddar. These are also provided to Kai without the benefit of a plate and the supplies tucked away under the bar again. One of the card players look up, scans Kai from head to foot, flicks his hand closed and declares with regret. "Sorry, m'out. Anyone want more beer while m'up?"
Kai tucks into the grub with a grunt and nod. After a swallow of the beer he sticks to the bread and cheese, washing them down only when necessary. The activity at the tables, shining like a beacon in the absence of anything even half as interesting, draws his idle attention; chewing, he watches the interplay like it's his own personal Harper Hall. A wince and he swallows again before sending in fingers between his teeth to pull out - well, it could be a pebble, or it could be one of those 'whole grains'. Whatever it is, he flicks the offending object onto the floor.
There's a tsk from the side of the room where a rather generously bosomed, plump, but not young woman pushes to her feet and brings a broom with her. Apparently someone does at least sort of care about the floor, though it's possible she's also just trying to show off the 'goods for sale'. That card player, after a couple of grunty requests for refills, ambles on over to the bar and leans elbows on the countertop. "Pitcher, Dello," he orders from the barkeep and then turns slightly, eyeballing Kai sidelong. "From around here?" he asks in a similar local drawl. Neatly dressed, but in scruffy clothing, the fellow looks like a local holder out for a bit of downtime before heading home for the night.
Kai does go so far as to nudge his sack out of her way and keep his feet clear, but otherwise he's more interested in her assets than her cleaning ability. A vague, "Sorry," proves he's got manners, at least, and he's turning back to his meal when he's addressed. There's more bread and more chewing as the younger man takes stock of the older, and he waves any attempt of Dello's to refill his mug away. "North," he offers finally. "Doing some traveling, looking for work. Got a friend of th' family down this way. Corrin. You heard of him?"
The smile from the serving woman is brighter maybe, than it needs to be, but she actually seems sincere with it as she twitches the broom and her hips for Kai's benefit. Dello just fills the pitcher up and slides it to the other guy, shoots Kai a puzzled glance for all the hand-waving and goes back to pushing that rag along the bar-top. "Corrin. Nope. But I know about some jobs," the card-player notes, then lifts the pitcher. "Need to bring this to the fellas." And he retreats to do so. There's some words exchanged, a burst of raucous laughter, then the guy returns to Kai. "So. What kind of work?" And his hand is stuck out. "Salin's the name."
So long as Dello doesn't try and serve him any more swill, Kai'll be happy. "Too bad," says Kai about not-knowing-Corrin, but he nods agreeably to send Salin back to his buds. When the other man returns Kai's finished off his meal and pushed the mug away, added a wooden bit to the crumbs on the bar top as well. He answers, "Kai," with a likewise crossing of palms. "Lifting, carrying, that sort of thing. Done some work guarding caravans couple months back, 'til they chased us all off. Know my way around a brawl, too." He lifts one hand, with its battered knuckles, to demonstrate.
Dello swipes crumbs off the bar, then finds something to do down the other end of it. "Kai," Salin echoes and nods a few times for those first qualifications then arches brow for the last. "Well. Hopefully not /too/ many brawls?" It's a mild question and the kind that a little Peyton holder might ask, but there's a certain 'something' about the gleam in Salin's eyes as he takes in bruised knuckles.
"Depends," says Kai with a shrug as he settles deeper onto his seat. "S'how I got through th' summer, mostly, at Gathers. Demonstrations an' th' like. One on one, two on one. Best odds I ever got was four on one; didn't win that'n though." He sounds regretful at that. "They knew how t' work t'gether. Coulda got ten, twelve marks outta that one. That woulda kept me over th' winter right snug."
Salin's fingers lace together as he listens to Kai's descriptions and he whistles lowly at the marks named. "Well, you know, for lifting and carrying, don't really /need/ all that violence. But it sounds like you ain't got a problem stickin' up for yourself or your mates if need be," the man says with a querying lilt at the end.
B'kaiv says, "Ain't never backed down from no fight, an' I don't aim t' start," with assurance underneath the bravado. "But I listen, an' I got learning enough t' satisfy just about any Harper. Read, write, do some sums." His chin goes up then, to take a narrower look at Salin. "What sort of jobs you know about?"
"Teamwork," Salin says mildly with a little smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up. He doesn't 'read' like a 'bad guy' this one. Not even slimey or low-life like Tricky Rick. "Moving things from place to place, you know, safely. Uncertain times these are," he explains with a little head-tilt and a narrowing of his own eyes.
Kai nods slowly a few times, then faster, mulling over Salin's words. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Wouldn't mind being with some others any road. If you're offering, I'm in. What's the pay?" And simple as that, he's ready. No further questions about 'what is the job, no really' or 'how long will this take' or 'so what are my chances of being killed or convicted on the job'.
Salin tilts his head a little, taking in the way Kai just jumped right in. "Percentage from the sale of the goods moved," he drawls out slowly. "Starts at 2 percent per, goes up as you prove yourself," he explains further. "Got no other questions?" Leading, maybe, that.
"Two percent," Kai echoes, not quite like they're in a foreign tongue, but like a man trying to do sums in his head. Again he nods, eyes hazy, blinks back to offer Salin half of a crooked smile. "Yeah, a'right. An' no, ain't got nothing right now. -Wait, yeah I do. Room an' board. They come outta what we're getting paid, or do they come with?"
"There'll be a place to sleep and food provided, but if you don't like what's being served, you'll have to fend for yourself," Salin says with a little lift of his shoulders. He considers Kai for another moment or two. "Well then. We'll do a trial run with you. I've my wagon along with and you can ride with me when I'm ready to go. Meantime if you want to play," a gesture towards the group over there. "Some of your teammates are playing. The rest are local cotholders."
"A'right," Kai agrees again. "Sounds good. You heading out later t'night?" He's already slipping sideways off the stool, one arm reaching to catch up his pack. "Might go watch. Ain't got enough marks as I can afford t' give 'em away. Maybe in a couple sevens." Again his smile ghosts through, one corner lifting and dropping again. "You any good?"
"In a little while," Salin affirms about his plans for the evening. "Lads'll be along too," he notes of Kai's 'teammates' and pushes off his stool to start the walk back towards the game. "Can float you a piece. But if you lose it, not more." A shrug. "Good enough for this group."
"Good enough," the new man agrees, this time adding a whole nod to his approval. He's genial enough as they settle to the game, introductions made all around and Salin's marks slid over to give him entry. He's not a bad player, but not particularly good, and by the time the game winds up he's lost about a quarter of his starting money, which he offers back to the man in charge.
"Thanks, try to win some next time," Salin says with a little snort as he pockets the leftover pieces. At least /he/ fared better and has pretty much come out even overall. "All right lads, time to pack up and head back." There's some mumbling, some of it even good-natured as the group pushes back chairs and aims to leave. There's some farewells from the locals, with well-wishes for the stuff they're moving along to help with trade.
Here we go. Shells, wish Chielyth weren't so far away. Gotta remember them names, too. Salin. Davvon. The blond is... shells. Thelmar, right. I can do this, easy. Just keep telling myself that. Easy.
It's one of those seedy little holes along the Peyton River, the place is relatively quiet even at what should be a popular hour. The beer is indifferent, the company not particularly witty, but there are a couple of games of cards going on in the background and the barkeep is swabbing down the counter with a damp rag as the sun slides on down towards the western sea.
Into the bar steps a customer, or at least a new face. A youngish man, with scabbing knuckles and bruises on his face at least a sevenday old, kicks the door shut behind him and pauses just inside to give the place a once-over. Card games he notes and ignores before heading up to the bar, straddling a stool and dropping his pack at his feet. "Beer," he orders into the bar-swabbing, "an' bread. Cheese if you got it." His drawl marks him as from around here, instead of the pansy eastern side of the mountains.
The barkeep pauses in his swabbing, eyes the strapping young man and without saying a word, leaves off with the rag, turns to draw one of those indifferent mugs of beer and sets it down in front of him. A loaf of bread, whole grain is drawn up from beneath the counter, a slice cut, then a wedge of cheese from what looks like a block of cheddar. These are also provided to Kai without the benefit of a plate and the supplies tucked away under the bar again. One of the card players look up, scans Kai from head to foot, flicks his hand closed and declares with regret. "Sorry, m'out. Anyone want more beer while m'up?"
Kai tucks into the grub with a grunt and nod. After a swallow of the beer he sticks to the bread and cheese, washing them down only when necessary. The activity at the tables, shining like a beacon in the absence of anything even half as interesting, draws his idle attention; chewing, he watches the interplay like it's his own personal Harper Hall. A wince and he swallows again before sending in fingers between his teeth to pull out - well, it could be a pebble, or it could be one of those 'whole grains'. Whatever it is, he flicks the offending object onto the floor.
There's a tsk from the side of the room where a rather generously bosomed, plump, but not young woman pushes to her feet and brings a broom with her. Apparently someone does at least sort of care about the floor, though it's possible she's also just trying to show off the 'goods for sale'. That card player, after a couple of grunty requests for refills, ambles on over to the bar and leans elbows on the countertop. "Pitcher, Dello," he orders from the barkeep and then turns slightly, eyeballing Kai sidelong. "From around here?" he asks in a similar local drawl. Neatly dressed, but in scruffy clothing, the fellow looks like a local holder out for a bit of downtime before heading home for the night.
Kai does go so far as to nudge his sack out of her way and keep his feet clear, but otherwise he's more interested in her assets than her cleaning ability. A vague, "Sorry," proves he's got manners, at least, and he's turning back to his meal when he's addressed. There's more bread and more chewing as the younger man takes stock of the older, and he waves any attempt of Dello's to refill his mug away. "North," he offers finally. "Doing some traveling, looking for work. Got a friend of th' family down this way. Corrin. You heard of him?"
The smile from the serving woman is brighter maybe, than it needs to be, but she actually seems sincere with it as she twitches the broom and her hips for Kai's benefit. Dello just fills the pitcher up and slides it to the other guy, shoots Kai a puzzled glance for all the hand-waving and goes back to pushing that rag along the bar-top. "Corrin. Nope. But I know about some jobs," the card-player notes, then lifts the pitcher. "Need to bring this to the fellas." And he retreats to do so. There's some words exchanged, a burst of raucous laughter, then the guy returns to Kai. "So. What kind of work?" And his hand is stuck out. "Salin's the name."
So long as Dello doesn't try and serve him any more swill, Kai'll be happy. "Too bad," says Kai about not-knowing-Corrin, but he nods agreeably to send Salin back to his buds. When the other man returns Kai's finished off his meal and pushed the mug away, added a wooden bit to the crumbs on the bar top as well. He answers, "Kai," with a likewise crossing of palms. "Lifting, carrying, that sort of thing. Done some work guarding caravans couple months back, 'til they chased us all off. Know my way around a brawl, too." He lifts one hand, with its battered knuckles, to demonstrate.
Dello swipes crumbs off the bar, then finds something to do down the other end of it. "Kai," Salin echoes and nods a few times for those first qualifications then arches brow for the last. "Well. Hopefully not /too/ many brawls?" It's a mild question and the kind that a little Peyton holder might ask, but there's a certain 'something' about the gleam in Salin's eyes as he takes in bruised knuckles.
"Depends," says Kai with a shrug as he settles deeper onto his seat. "S'how I got through th' summer, mostly, at Gathers. Demonstrations an' th' like. One on one, two on one. Best odds I ever got was four on one; didn't win that'n though." He sounds regretful at that. "They knew how t' work t'gether. Coulda got ten, twelve marks outta that one. That woulda kept me over th' winter right snug."
Salin's fingers lace together as he listens to Kai's descriptions and he whistles lowly at the marks named. "Well, you know, for lifting and carrying, don't really /need/ all that violence. But it sounds like you ain't got a problem stickin' up for yourself or your mates if need be," the man says with a querying lilt at the end.
B'kaiv says, "Ain't never backed down from no fight, an' I don't aim t' start," with assurance underneath the bravado. "But I listen, an' I got learning enough t' satisfy just about any Harper. Read, write, do some sums." His chin goes up then, to take a narrower look at Salin. "What sort of jobs you know about?"
"Teamwork," Salin says mildly with a little smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up. He doesn't 'read' like a 'bad guy' this one. Not even slimey or low-life like Tricky Rick. "Moving things from place to place, you know, safely. Uncertain times these are," he explains with a little head-tilt and a narrowing of his own eyes.
Kai nods slowly a few times, then faster, mulling over Salin's words. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Wouldn't mind being with some others any road. If you're offering, I'm in. What's the pay?" And simple as that, he's ready. No further questions about 'what is the job, no really' or 'how long will this take' or 'so what are my chances of being killed or convicted on the job'.
Salin tilts his head a little, taking in the way Kai just jumped right in. "Percentage from the sale of the goods moved," he drawls out slowly. "Starts at 2 percent per, goes up as you prove yourself," he explains further. "Got no other questions?" Leading, maybe, that.
"Two percent," Kai echoes, not quite like they're in a foreign tongue, but like a man trying to do sums in his head. Again he nods, eyes hazy, blinks back to offer Salin half of a crooked smile. "Yeah, a'right. An' no, ain't got nothing right now. -Wait, yeah I do. Room an' board. They come outta what we're getting paid, or do they come with?"
"There'll be a place to sleep and food provided, but if you don't like what's being served, you'll have to fend for yourself," Salin says with a little lift of his shoulders. He considers Kai for another moment or two. "Well then. We'll do a trial run with you. I've my wagon along with and you can ride with me when I'm ready to go. Meantime if you want to play," a gesture towards the group over there. "Some of your teammates are playing. The rest are local cotholders."
"A'right," Kai agrees again. "Sounds good. You heading out later t'night?" He's already slipping sideways off the stool, one arm reaching to catch up his pack. "Might go watch. Ain't got enough marks as I can afford t' give 'em away. Maybe in a couple sevens." Again his smile ghosts through, one corner lifting and dropping again. "You any good?"
"In a little while," Salin affirms about his plans for the evening. "Lads'll be along too," he notes of Kai's 'teammates' and pushes off his stool to start the walk back towards the game. "Can float you a piece. But if you lose it, not more." A shrug. "Good enough for this group."
"Good enough," the new man agrees, this time adding a whole nod to his approval. He's genial enough as they settle to the game, introductions made all around and Salin's marks slid over to give him entry. He's not a bad player, but not particularly good, and by the time the game winds up he's lost about a quarter of his starting money, which he offers back to the man in charge.
"Thanks, try to win some next time," Salin says with a little snort as he pockets the leftover pieces. At least /he/ fared better and has pretty much come out even overall. "All right lads, time to pack up and head back." There's some mumbling, some of it even good-natured as the group pushes back chairs and aims to leave. There's some farewells from the locals, with well-wishes for the stuff they're moving along to help with trade.
Here we go. Shells, wish Chielyth weren't so far away. Gotta remember them names, too. Salin. Davvon. The blond is... shells. Thelmar, right. I can do this, easy. Just keep telling myself that. Easy.